I've always been scared to lose the things I love
Everything I've lost
I loved
Or losing them would have been no loss
I ask myself stupid questions
As if they have a right answer
Is it lost if it can be found?
With loss comes sadness
But the sad find things
We avert our eyes from what's ahead
Look down in self pity
With that contemplating look
Sometimes finding the strangest of things
Unwanted, forgotten and withering things

As if this poem was a sick joke
Not to be taken seriously
Like an obvious hoax
I have made it rhyme here
So I can cope

I'm painting a sad picture today
I found myself then lost my way
When two roads lead to the same destination
Do we take the shorter route
Or take a journey through the grounds of recreation?
The longer it is the more to see
The more we find
The more we will be
Forget the things things that can't be found
Resist depression
Don't look at the ground